


Thrill

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Kid Fic, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 04:34:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21404269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Thranduil loses his son to a storm.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 75





	Thrill

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

The thunder booms, and the pebbles stir about Thranduil’s feet, the very earth rumbling with the fury of the storm. Rain beats down beyond the wide windows, slicking along the pillars and ricocheting inside. Drops land mere millimeters from his toes. His guards stand before him, soaking wet, dribbling down onto the floor of his keep. Feren pants through laboured breath, “We searched everywhere, my king.”

At Thranduil’s side, Galion murmurs, “I am sure the prince is safe. He is well equipped—”

But Thranduil hisses, “Silence!” and his butler promptly falls quiet. Feren’s head remains hung, drenched hair draped along the ground. Thranduil insists, “Keep looking.”

With a nod of his head, Feren rises, only to scramble out the grand doors as swiftly as he came. The two guards standing on either side are equally as wet, though they stand inside—the wind keeps billowing water through. Thranduil stares out into the misty remnants of his forest and watches the lightning flash. 

He makes his decision. It’s already been too long. He listened to the advice of his council while the storm was in its beginning stages, but now it’s gone on far too long. He can no longer afford to prioritize his own safety. It’s almost like the Valar are taunting him. The storm rages beyond his gates, while his child trembles somewhere in the forest. They’d had a row only that morning, Legolas wanting to explore and Thranduil insisting that he stay, and when Thranduil was informed that Legolas had slithered past the guards, he was furious. He cursed his child for an arrogant, foolish creature that needed a hard lesson. But he spoke too soon. He never actually wanted Legolas to be _afraid._

Galion calls after him as he surges through the open gates. Thranduil doesn’t listen. The rain instantly batters him down, flattening his hair against his back, and he actually hears several spindles breaking from his crown. That doesn’t stop him. He strolls forward through the torrent and bellows, “Legolas!”

There is no answer. Of course there wouldn’t be. He’s had elves looking left and right. He moves onwards anyway, trusting his heart to guide him. Then he sees movement in his peripherals—his favourite elk pokes up through the trees. Thranduil’s breath catches, and he instantly turns to follow it. 

It guides him faithfully through the mud, around the twisting trees, sticking close enough that he can see it, because he can’t see more than three arms’ length’s away. His robes cling and stick to the earth, catching in thorns and roots, but he only lifts them about his ankles and moves faster. They walk for an absurdly long time, through three more cracks of thunder and blinding lightning that rushes through the forest like raging fire. Then the elk halts at a tree and peers up through its branches. Thranduil calls again, “_Legolas!_”

“Ada?” a voice returns, small and almost unintelligible through the pounding rain. Thranduil’s heart beats faster for it. The leaves rustle, and a figure swings out of them—Legolas hangs upside down, legs twisted around the branch, hair streaming towards the earth. To Thranduil’s shock, he’s _smiling._ He hums, “Isn’t it beautiful, Ada? Everything is so shiny and different!”

For a brief moment, Thranduil’s overcome with anger—he was worried, petrified, because he was sure that his young son was terrified. But Legolas looks as cheery as ever. Thranduil hisses, “Come down this instant!”

Legolas frowns. He drops from the branch, impressively twisting in midair to land on his small feet. It splashes more mud onto Thranduil’s robes. Then Legolas stiffly straightens.

Thranduil grabs his wrist and drags him back towards their keep, while Legolas ‘ooh’s and ‘aw’s at the treacherous world around him.


End file.
